


Combat Catalyst

by Torak (awmperry)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Action, Comedy, F/M, Humour, SIYE challenge entries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-04
Updated: 2010-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-10 09:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awmperry/pseuds/Torak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Winner of Best Overall & Best Adventure in the SIYE Dark Autumn Challenge)<br/>As the sextet find some time to have a good chat and sort some things out, a large force of Death Eaters are on their way to cleanse Hogsmeade. Lots of non-fluffy fluff, whizz-bang special effects, and a Death Eater with a splitting headache.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Combat Catalyst

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are very much appreciated - as is constructive criticism. Thanks for reading.

##  **Combat Catalyst**

_This is the Britain that Muggles don't see. An invisible world of magic, drifting inexorably towards winter._

The autumnal equinox passed just two weeks ago, and as the nights grow longer and darker, Voldemort's reign grows correspondingly stronger and more violent.

But for now, it doesn't matter. At Hogwarts, with the students safely ensconced behind thick walls and magical wards, there are more important things to worry about.

The upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, for instance.

*      *      *

As always, the days preceding the Hogsmeade weekend passed slowly. The weather was growing colder; though sunny, there was a cold wind blowing from the north, and the damp air had a bitter, biting quality to it that persuaded most people that maybe indoors wasn't so bad.

The Saturday, however, dawned with warmth that few had expected after the howling winds during the night. There was a thin layer of frost on the grass, but the sun was out and the winds southerly, which made the slight chill significantly less uncomfortable.

It was into this crisp, cloudless weather that Harry Potter and his friends emerged after breakfast.

"Weather like this for Hogsmeade after all that fuss last night," Ron chuckled. "Sometimes I wonder if Dumbledore's got a direct line to the weather gods."

"It won't last long," Hermione warned glumly. "A warm front crashing into the depression we've had for the last week? It'll get nasty later."

"Enjoy it while it lasts, then!" Ron said, exasperated. "It'll be nice today, at least, right?"

Ginny chuckled as she and Harry walked on, leaving Ron and Hermione to their argument.

"Do you suppose they'll ever get a clue?"

"We can but hope," Harry smiled, affecting an almost vicarly demeanour. "They know not themselves." The corner of his mouth twitched, and Ginny shot him a glance that held an evilly humorous glint... and possibly, he thought, something else.

"It's not an uncommon affliction these days," she commented pointedly, adopting a similar tone.

Harry nodded, but looked away as a frown creased his face. _What did she mean with that?_ he thought, hurriedly sneaking a glance back at her. _Sounded almost as if..._

"Wait up!" Ginny caught his elbow and pulled him round as they heard feet pounding along behind them.

"You were about to bugger off without us, weren't you?" Ron panted, catching up. Hermione followed a few paces behind.

"You can hardly blame them when you insist on starting an argument in the middle of the road, Ron," she fumed, rounding on him. "Honestly, if..."

Ginny caught her and spun her round to face Hogsmeade. "Walk."

Caught off guard, Hermione did so. A moment later, the other three joined her — Harry and Ginny carefully walking between the two combatants.

"You're arguing a lot these days, aren't you?" Harry murmured quietly as they walked.

"She keeps picking fights! If she'd only put a sock in it..."

"...you might tell her?"

Ron's mouth snapped shut, and his ears began to glow.

"Tell... um... tell her what?" he asked, trying and failing to appear nonchalant.

"You know what I mean."

"Um." He seemed to realise that there was no getting out of it. "Well, if she..."

"She's bonkers about you, you're nuts about her... If you'd just stop bickering long enough to notice. Oh bugger, look at that." He pointed.

Hermione had been right; as they approached Hogsmeade, a band of dark cloud was just appearing on the horizon from the south-west.

"Why can't she ever be _wrong_?" Ron groaned miserably.

"We'd better hurry up," Ginny interrupted, "if we're going to have any time in Hogsmeade before that rain hits."

They picked up their pace and soon caught up with the rest of the throng; all Gryffindors, with one exception. Luna Lovegood ambled along beside Neville, chatting aimlessly about something she called the Clavophagic Sofa Gerbil and how it could be repelled by leaving key-shaped silver decoys in the garden. Neville seemed to be behaving oddly; he tensed slightly as he noticed the others approaching.

"Got your umbrella charms ready?" Harry asked, tapping Neville on the shoulder. Startled, Neville spun round.

"Oh... why, is it going to rain?"

"Hermione says so."

"Ah." Neville quickly drew his wand and tapped the top of his head. "_Parimber_," he muttered hesitantly, then turned to Luna. "Did it work?"

She waggled her wand randomly at him and cast a simple watering charm. The cold drops were barely slowed by the charm, and he was quickly soaked.

"No."

"I'll help you sort it out later, Neville," Hermione broke in. "We were all going to meet up in the Three Broomsticks before going back to the castle, anyway."

"What are you lot going to do in town, then?" Ron asked.

"We're going to the Post Office first," Luna replied. "I've got to pick up my subscriptions, and then Neville wanted to go to Honeyduke's."

"The two of you, eh?" Ginny grinned knowingly. Her grin grew wider as Neville's face turned crimson.

"I need more ink and parchment, anyway," Hermione interrupted diplomatically, rescuing Neville again.

"Well, look, how about we meet in the Broomsticks at half twelve?" Harry suggested, glancing at his watch. "That gives us three hours beforehand."

The motion carried, they continued into the village.

*      *      *

_In the shadows of the Hog's Head, a dozen hooded figures are milling about. Nobody is paying them any attention; this is a pub where nobody knows your name, and where overly close interest is liable to result in more inconvenience, discomfort or, quite possibly, pain than any question is worth. The hooded figures are sitting around in small groups, chatting amongst themselves, nursing their drinks. They're not hurting a fly._

*      *      *

"I'll see you later, guys," Harry said, stepping towards the Three Broomsticks. To his surprise, Ginny followed him, with a wave to the others. He held the door open and followed her in.

"Meeting someone, Ginny?"

"No. Just thought I'd keep you company — I've got nothing better to do."

Harry raised an eyebrow, glancing oddly at her. "Okay."

The Three Broomsticks was emptier than usual, but that was not uncommon so early in the morning. Madam Rosmerta was bustling about behind the bar as usual, a few cowled figures drifted about in the background, and a dozen or so of Harry's fellow students sat chatting at the tables. Harry and Ginny perched themselves in a booth and ordered a couple of butterbeers.

"No Dean today, then?"

Ginny squirmed slightly.

"Well," she began, "the thing about Dean... I mean... Well, he's very..."

"You're sick of him?"

"Well... yeah."

Harry said nothing, but gave a thoughtful nod and glanced at the door. There was an odd look in his eyes, and it did not go unnoticed.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Ginny asked carefully as their drinks arrived. Harry paid Madam Rosmerta with a weak smile and waited for her to move off before answering.

"No... Not really." A slight smile flickered across his face. "Not a thing." He raised his glass. "Cheers."

Maybe today could be a good day after all.

*****

Meanwhile, the other four continued in along the high street.

"We'll catch up with you later, OK?" Neville asked, as Luna waved absently at them and disappeared into the post office. Ron nodded glumly, and Hermione turned to Neville.

"All right. Twelve thirty, then." With a little wave, she snagged Ron and hustled him off down the street. "Come on, Ron. You're out of parchment."

"No I'm not... am I?"

"Yes. I checked. And you've only got half a bottle of ink left."

They wandered off, still bickering, leaving a bemused Neville watching them, eyebrow raised.

_They're practically married, and they don't even know it,_ he thought with a mental chuckle, before going into the post office to join Luna.

She was standing at the counter as the clerk piled up an armful of parcels and packages.

"Those two are absolutely oblivious," he grinned at Luna, stepping to her side.

"Yes," she breezed, signing for her package and tucking about half of the missives into her shoulder bag. She turned towards Neville and the door, and flashed him a quick smile. "Harry and Ginny, too. They're in the same situation, you know. And so were you, thirty-two weeks ago."

*      *      *

_The hooded figures have started moving. Those standing by the doors and windows have quietly cast locking charms, so nothing has stopped the brief, furious flurry of spells from stunning everyone in the Hog's Head._

None have escaped to warn anyone.

And armed with an unlocking spell, the dozen are heading for the door.

*      *      *

"You still haven't told me why you were acting so oddly the other day."

"Hm?" Harry looked up from his contemplation of the table. He had been trying to assemble his thoughts after hearing Ginny's opinion of Dean, trying to work out what he could say.

"You've been hovering." She smiled, and he got a sneaking suspicion that she did not particularly mind.

"Um." There was not much else he could say. He was not entirely sure _why_ he had been pleased to hear about Dean, or why he so enjoyed spending time with Ginny. He had an inkling, but he was hardly about to tell her _that_ until he was absolutely certain himself. And besides, she was over him, right?

"And you keep staring at me when you think I'm not looking."

Harry coloured, but — knowing there was no point — did not deny it. He looked down at the table again and started silently doodling in the condensation pooling on the polished wood.

"I didn't get over you, you know." At the sound of her quiet words, his eyes snapped up to hers.

"What?"

She was blushing now, and seemed to be finding the table almost as fascinating as he had a moment ago.

"You heard me."

They stayed at their table for some time, their butterbeer forgotten. They had a lot of not talking to catch up on.

*****

"Hermione, I'm _sure_ I've got enough quills..."

Hermione ignored Ron's protests entirely.

"No you haven't. Your Number Eights are practically worn to stubs, your Threes are ragged at the edges, and you're completely out of Fives."

"I can write with Sevens, they're fine for essays!"

She glared at him.

"Honestly, Ron, what would people think if I let you use _Sevens_ for writing homework?" She pronounced 'sevens' in a tone so laden with contempt that most people would reserve it for tax collectors and personal injury lawyers.

"Bloody hell, Hermione..." Ron muttered, irritated. "Next thing I know, you'll be telling me you've been rifling through my underwear and cataloguing my boxers!"

She blinked, then directed a determined stare at the parchment shelf. Ron thought he caught the beginnings of a blush.

"You... you bloody _haven't_!"

Hermione was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, she spoke so fast that there were hardly any spaces between the words.

"Eight pairs of briefs, white, four black, seven pairs of boxers, black, five white, eleven grey, two pairs of Chudley orange swimming trunks, and something presumably related to a bootlace that I shall pretend I didn't see. And a sock."

"You... I had a sock in there?"

"Green. With a broomstick."

"I've been looking for that one!" Then he seemed to remember the matter at hand. "You catalogued my underwear!"

"Well, I thought we could go via Gladrags on the way..."

"Oh, come on! How would you feel if I'd rummaged through your knickers and reorganised them?" Ron demanded, growing angry.

"It would be a waste of time," she spluttered hastily, trying to placate him. "I've already got them ordered by style, usage and colour, you see, and cross-referenced with matching..."

"Anything else you've been tidying without telling me?" Ron quickly interrupted, hurrying to move on before those treacherous neurones at the back of his brain managed to wonder exactly _what_ matched.

"Um..." She quickly scurried round to the other side of the shelf, putting a good eighteen inches of mahogany between her and Ron. "Well, I sent your Quidditch gear off for cleaning and a quick coat of saddle soap..."

"...and...?"

"...and I sorted your pullovers by colour, and — " her face flared crimson " — I had a quick sort through that drawer you keep your socks in, and..."

"Oh bollocks..." Ron knew what was coming. He turned red and sank to his haunches, hiding his face in his hands.

"...and," she carried doggedly on, "I found those magazines you had hidden inside the limited-edition collectible Chudley Cannons lunch box."

"Mnk." A faint squeak came from the quivering mess that was Ron. He hazarded a glance up and caught an embarrassed but affectionate look on her face.

"Um. I... I sorted them chronologically. And got you a binder for them to keep them in order. Um."

Ron shot to his feet, his eyes wide and his jaw mildly concussing itself on the floor. "You're bloody _joking_!"

"Anyway," Hermione said briskly, grabbing a variety of stationery from the shelves and setting off for the counter, "about that ink..."

Shaking his head and wishing desperately for his blush to subside, Ron followed her.

Three minutes and several Galleons later, they exited into the street. Ron seemed to have calmed down a little, but he was still glowing with embarrassment. Hermione grabbed his arm and swung him down the alley to the left.

"Um... where are we going now?" He had a horrible sinking feeling about all this.

"We're going to get a drink," Hermione said smoothly. "At Madam Puddifoot's tea room." Ron was about to protest, but the look in Hermione's eyes stopped him.

"You mean..."

"We have a few things to talk about."

*****

Neville followed Luna out of the Post Office and across to Honeyduke's.

"Oh, look," she said, pointing down the street. "They've closed Zonko's."

"Must be the security thing," Neville mumbled absently. "Don't know why they bother. With Harry, Dumbledore and all the Aurors here, You-Know-Who would have to be pretty stupid to attack."

"Only two things are infinite; the universe and human stupidity." Luna smiled. "And I'm not certain about the universe."

Chuckling, Neville held open the door and they went into Honeyduke's.

A few minutes later, heavily laden with sweets, they continued up the road to Gladrags.

"Why are we going in here?" Neville asked as the door plinged shut behind them.

"I want to see if Hermione's finally got her head out of her head," Luna explained patiently. "You saw them — we'll have a winner by the end of the day, I think. And anyway, I need a new hat."

*****

Harry and Ginny headed out into Hogsmeade an hour later and set off down the street. They walked along close together, chatting quietly.

"I thought I'd never catch you, you know."

"I never thought you'd want to."

"But Merlin, that conversation was awkward."

"Could have been worse," Ginny said. "At least we weren't one of those couples sitting staring deeply into each others' eyes, looking embarrassing. They're supposed to save that sort of thing for Madam Puddifoot's."

"Fair point," Harry chuckled. "It's funny, though; the nutters seem to collect in the morning. Did you see those two in the cloaks?"

Ginny nodded. "Yeah. I thought it looked a bit melodramatic — aren't hoods a Hog's Head thing?"

"Usually." Harry chuckled as he remembered the two figures lurking in the corner booth. Then a face, half-hidden beneath the shadowy cowl, swam into focus in his memory. A face he had seen just over a year ago in a dark, misty graveyard. "Nott..."

"Usually not?"

"No." His face hardened, and he swung round back towards the Three Broomsticks. "I mean that was Nott. The _Death Eater_ named Nott."

They broke into a run.

*      *      *

_Slipping cautiously out into the street, the hooded figures divide into pairs. They move quietly around the houses, heading for the High Street._

Inside the Three Broomsticks, the two Death Eaters sweep their cloaks aside, push over their table and draw their wands. They will fire the opening shots of the cleansing of Hogsmeade.

The Muggle-loving fools will regret opposing the Dark Lord. We will exterminate Dumbledore and his minions, and Lord Voldemort will reign. The Knights of Walpurgis **will** prevail.

*      *      *

As they approached the Three Broomsticks again, they heard shouting from within. A bright red stunning spell erupted through the wall and shattered a window across the street.

Ginny caught a small cluster of third-years and sent them up to the castle for help, then caught up with Harry just as he kicked the door in.

"Nott!" he bellowed, barging into the pub.

The Death Eater's head snapped up. The cowl fell away, revealing his stunned face. Then he dived to the side, ducking behind an overturned table.

"Bloody Potter's back!" he shouted to the other Death Eater, who spun and sent a stunning spell blazing towards the door. But Harry and Ginny had already drawn their wands and dived for cover.

"Keep their heads down!" Harry ordered, creeping towards the bar and firing a spell towards the two Death Eaters; one was ducking behind the whimpering, unconscious form of a student — the first victim of the battle, fallen to a Cruciatus curse.

Ginny launched a series of hexes which thudded heavily into the back wall. Harry popped up behind the bar and launched a stunner of his own. Three loud _cracks _flared, and the two Death Eaters stood up and sent off a volley towards the throng of students heading out. Then they grinned.

"Ginny! What are they smiling at?" Harry yelled across the room.

Ginny glanced across the room and blanched. Harry followed her gaze.

Three more Death Eaters had just stepped into the Three Broomsticks.

*****

"So..." Ron began as they stepped into the alley leading to Madam Puddifoot's, "why are we going here, again?"

"So we can sit down and have a chat," Hermione replied, negotiating a cluster of fourth-years as the sky grew darker and the temperature dropped. There was by now a distinct scent of rain in the air.

"Well, yeah, but why... I mean, the tea shop... Does it mean what I think it means?"

Hermione shot him a quick smile. "It may well do."

She did not have time to continue, however, as a volley of Apparition cracks echoed through the street — and six Death Eaters stepped out before them.

Ron was the first to react, drawing his wand and shoving Hermione roughly towards the rain barrels under Scrivenshaft's downspout.

"Quick, get behind that barrel!" he shouted, ducking into the porch of the village hall. She dived into cover, drawing her wand, as Ron launched a stunner towards the approaching Death Eaters.

One of the Death Eaters fell, his legs buckling beneath him, as a fifth-year launched a jelly-legs curse from the doorway of Madam Puddifoot's tea room. Ron caught a concerned glance from Hermione across the street.

"There are too few of them!" she shouted, frowning. "They wouldn't attack with just half a dozen — there must be more of them somewhere!"

And then a lance of blue light came from behind the village hall on the corner and hit Hermione squarely between the shoulder blades.

*****

At the sound of the scream, Luna and Neville both ran for the door. Risking a quick glance outside, Luna saw the Death Eaters scurrying up the street from the Hog's Head, hugging the walls and blasting the odd spell towards the running students. She ducked back inside.

"I see five of them, coming up the street."

"What do we do?"

Luna caught a glimpse of a group of DA members ducking and weaving westwards along the street, heading for the Death Eaters — and to her left, she saw Hermione lying motionless in the T-junction.

"You get Katie and the others, I'll help Hermione."

"You mean..."

"You're good at spells now, Neville. You've done well in DA, and you know your stuff. Just go!"

"I suppose, but... I mean, telling them what to do... I..."

Luna rolled her eyes and pointed her wand at him.

"All right." She tapped him on the head. "_Primum pilum_."

A flash of cyan light enveloped Neville's head. When it dissipated, his face had firmed up markedly, and a vaguely moustache-shaped shadow seemed to have formed below his nose.

"What the bloody 'ell was that, Lovegood?" he blustered in a broad cockney accent.

"That was a Sergeant-Major charm," Luna grinned. "Now, get those students organised!"

Drawing his wand, Neville sank to a half-crouch by the door, a predatory gleam in his eye.

"Orright, I'll cover you. Break left, get Granger, and I'll muster the troops in the right quarter." He pushed the door open and fired off a stunner in the general direction of the Death Eaters approaching from the north. "GO!"

Luna ducked out through the door and ran for the junction, weaving and dodging spells. Neville leaned out and carefully took aim on the Death Eaters emerging between two houses to the east.

"_Plombignis Mitraillus_," he muttered, and a thundering flurry of angry orange bolts pounded across the street, blasting one of the Death Eaters off his feet. There was a sickening _crack_ as the Death Eater hit the eaves of the house and fell to the ground, his head at an angle no head should be. The other caught a volley in the stomach and dropped to the cobbles.

"I love the smell of magic in the morning," Neville sneered for no apparent reason before diving forward under the cover of another volley.

Meanwhile, Luna bobbed towards the prone Hermione, ducking between the spells. As she approached, two Death Eaters broke cover from behind Dervish and Banges and ran across the street, flinging curses before them.

"_Stupefy_!" she shouted, dropping one of them as he dived for cover behind the village hall. Then, without breaking stride, she grabbed Hermione and, weaving between hexes, dragged her into the cover of the village hall's doorway.

"Hermione!" she said loudly, shaking Hermione's shoulders and casting a brisk enervation spell. It had no effect. She glanced around, waving at a pale face behind the wobbly glass of Dervish And Banges' shop window. She was rewarded by a hesitant nod, and the face disappeared.

A few moments later half a dozen students burst out of the shop. Stunners filled the air as they returned fire at the Death Eaters, protecting Luna as she dragged Hermione across the street into Scrivenshaft's porch. She briefly checked Hermione once more before collaring one of the students.

"Grab two more, protect Hermione until we've scared off the Death Eaters. Do you understand?"

The girl nodded, quickly snagging two of the combatants and pulling them with her into the porch.

_Good girl,_ Luna thought approvingly as she ran off towards Ron, _got a cool head on her._

Thirty metres down the street, Neville had assembled his squad and begun his advance.

*      *      *

_The assault has begun. Loyal Death Eaters are apparating in from all sides, and those foolish young Gryffindors who just entered the pub are unaware that three more Death Eaters are about to join them. Eight more are approaching from the southwest, and the northern contingent is ready to engage._

The die has been cast. With the skill and numbers of the Death Eaters pitted against pathetic, blood-traitor villagers and a smattering of juveniles, there is only one way it can roll.

Any other result is a million-to-one chance.

*      *      *

The new arrivals distracted Harry for a moment, and he felt the familiar burn of a Cruciatus curse igniting his nerve endings. He fell to the floor, gritting his teeth and willing himself to push the pain aside. He vaguely heard a stunner zip past his head and had time to notice Nott collapse to the floor before a soft hand caught his collar and pulled him in behind the bar.

"Hang on, Harry," Ginny's voice breathed in his ear. He nodded absently, feeling the last remnants of the curse leach out of his system. He drew in a ragged breath and pulled himself into a sitting position.

"How are we doing?" he gulped.

"Colin's down, Lavender's got a nasty cut from a broken bottle, and Alicia's just broken a Death Eater's nose. Are _you_ OK?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, pulling himself up with a grunt. "I'm fine." He caught her shoulder and pointed over the top of the bar. "Let's get the buggers."

Together, they stood up and rounded the end of the bar, flinging hexes wherever they saw a target. One of the new arrivals fell, bats clustering over his face.

"Take the left," Harry muttered, spotting the scrum in the northwest corner.

They split up and started following the walls. Flinging a spell towards the door, Harry suddenly felt a sharp point prick the back of his head.

"Don't. Bloody. Move."

Harry's eyes flicked to the mirrors on the walls. A large Death Eater stood behind him at the bar, wand levelled at the back of Harry's head.

"You're Potter," the gravely voice gloated. "The Dark Lord will be pleased to have you captured, I'm sure. No," he ordered quickly, catching Harry's sideways glance, "don't try anything. I assure you, I am exceptionally fast at casting..."

The pressure on the back of Harry's head disappeared with the sound of smashing glass. Turning, he saw Madam Rosmerta standing with the remnants of a bottle in her hand, and a cloaked body slumped over the decaying varnish of the bar.

"That was a thirty-year-old McWidgen's," Rosmerta mused sadly, with a wistful glance at the bottle. She violently shoved the unconscious form of the Death Eater off the bar, glaring at him with undisguised hatred. "I'll send your bill to Azkaban."

At the other end of the room, a hard, sinewy fist caught Ginny in the face, throwing her halfway across the room and into the far wall, bouncing off a shattered table as she went. She slid down the wall, dazed, noticing with a shock the sharp pain in her thigh. Looking down, she saw a jagged splinter of oak embedded in her leg, crimson beads of blood trickling out around it. She reached down woozily to pull it out, when a kick caught her in the chest.

She fell backwards again, the back of her head cracking sharply against the wall. As her vision wobbled back into focus, she saw the hooded figure standing in front of her, looming over Ginny where she lay. He pushed the hood back and grinned at her, his canines lengthening to nearly an inch.

"Did that hurt, little girl?" he crooned, gloating. "Shall I kiss it and make it better?" He licked his lips and leaned down towards the oozing slash across her leg; though she struggled, her strength was no match for that of the vampire. "Nice and fresh, not even started to coagulate..."

But then, just as he leaned in for the bite, his eyes glazed over and his face slackened. He fell across Ginny, an undead weight. Gritting her teeth, she pushed him off her before looking up.

There stood Harry, wielding a broken chair leg, its ragged end glistening with the vampire's blood. A furious expression darkened his face.

"He attacked you," he muttered simply before tossing the sharp piece of wood over his shoulder. "I raised the stakes."

*****

Large, dense raindrops started thudding heavily into the muddy cobbles as the clouds opened, gusts of wind driving banks of cold sleet smattering across the street. Neville strode purposefully through the accumulating slush, pausing from time to time to nonchalantly duck a stray curse.

"You lot!" he bellowed into a small grocery shop as he passed, seizing the attention of a group of DA members inside. "Get out here, on the double!"

The small band spilled out into the street with varying degrees of trepidation, some of them cowering as curses zipped through the air. They milled around Neville, reluctantly following him down the street.

"Come on, you 'orrible lot, get stuck in!" he shouted, hitting a Death Eater with a body bind before hurrying the students in behind a corner.

"All right, you've got no clue what's going on, 'ave you?"

He was met by a chorus of mumbles along the general theme of "um, no".

"Right." He drew himself up so they could all hear him. "Well, what we 'ave is a large-scale assault by an unknown number of Death Eaters, eliminating Hogsmeade for the use of. Our casualties are as yet unknown. Our objective is to eliminate the attacking force as expediently as possible. You two, at the back! Muster the locals, get them out here right away."

He pointed his wand upwards, and with a thumping explosion a blast of silvery light flared up and away through the now-stormy sky. A distant part of his mind wondered how on Earth he knew what he was doing, but he forgot about it when a hex blasted a chunk out of the wall behind him.

He leaned out for a quick glance, noting the Ministry's constituency office across the street, then ducked back behind the corner again.

"McMillan, Chang — you're with me. Patils, Boot, the rest of you, stay here and give us covering spells. When I give the signal, you come out with wands blazing. Orright?"

"Um... what's the signal?" a small third-year asked timidly. She was a dainty Ravenclaw girl with pigtails who had been buying sugar quills and got caught up in the rush to join the battle. In the excitement, it had taken her two tries to hold her wand the right way round.

"You'll know," Neville said curtly, with a manic smile. "Oh yes, you'll know..."

The students exchanged worried glances, but reluctantly took their positions. Ernie McMillan and Cho Chang closed in behind Neville where he stood behind the barrels under the downspout.

"GO!" he hissed in that mysteriously S-free hiss perfected by Sergeants-Major everywhere, before breaking cover and running full pelt for the porch opposite them. Cho and Ernie were only feet behind him, and immediately behind them the air became thick with curses and hexes flying across the street from both sides. The three broke down the office door with a swift kick and ran inside.

"What are they doing?" the little Ravenclaw wittered nervously, tugging a burly Hufflepuff's sleeve.

"Don't know," he muttered, launching a stunner eastwards. "Wait and see." Two stunners later, the Death Eater he was aiming at dropped behind a cart standing, abandoned, in the middle of the street.

Just then, Neville burst out of the constituency office, grinning insanely, the other two on his heels. He sprinted to take cover behind the cart, then ran to cross the rest of the street. He leapt for the cover of an alleyway, rolling as he landed and springing lightly up on his feet when he was behind the corner. The other two simply ran, but with considerable urgency.

"Do you think that was the signal?" the girl worried.

The constituency office exploded.

It was the kind of explosion that in a magic-free universe would require a considerable special effects budget, and even here could really only be created by a particularly volatile combination of spells. It seemed to happen in slow motion, though in reality it could only have been a matter of seconds.

The roof took off first, blasting lazily outwards in a remarkably coherent cloud of tiles and joists. Oddly, they seemed to hold their relative positions, just drifting slowly apart before finally being caught by the blast and flung outwards.

Then the walls erupted outwards, shattering and charring as they went, glass from the wide window at the front cascading outwards and embedding itself in the wooden wall across the street. A rack of brand new, gold-plated metal quills left through a side window, disgorging its contents like a cluster bomb; eight of them hit an unfortunate Death Eater, pinning him gruesomely to a wall.

Residual explosions ravaged the remnants of the building, scattering furniture and fragments all around. A scorched, tattered poster with the words "VOTE FUDGE" fluttered through the pall, finally sailing out of view beyond the growing plume of smoke and dust.

A burning wheel rolled out of the flames, bouncing gently across the street and vanishing out of sight. There's _always_ a burning wheel.

"Bloody hell..." Terry Boot muttered.

"I reckon," the wide-eyed Hufflepuff said slowly, "that was the signal."

"On three?"

And so, with smoking fragments of charred shrapnel hitting the ground around them, Dumbledore's Army sallied forth.

*****

Luna joined Ron at the southern corner of Scrivenshaft's stationery shop, where he and three fourth-years were precariously pinned down by a slowly-shrinking swarm of Death Eaters. Luna fired a stunner, dropping one of them.

Seeing a third comrade fall, the Death Eaters fell back. One ducked into an alleyway, heading west, while another kicked down the glass door into Madam Puddifoot's tea room and stormed in, shattered glass crunching beneath his boots.

"We'll get that one," Ron shouted to the younger students, pointing to the alley. "You get the one that went inside!"

"What about the running ones?" they shouted back just as a cluster of students and locals turned into the street. Ron waved back down the street.

"Don't worry, let that lot handle them!"

The younger students glanced back down the street, saw the reinforcements arriving, then nodded and set off towards the tea room.

"Coming, Ron?" Luna asked, catching Ron's arm and pulling him up. Blasting spells after the fleeing Death Eaters, they rounded the cottage north of the tea room.

"Think he's still there?" she whispered, creeping along with her wand at the ready.

They snuck along the wall and, turning into the back yard, entered another world. A frilly, fluffy world smelling slightly of soap and lavender. It obviously belonged to a family with children; vast swathes of clothes, sheets and underwear dangled from dozens of yards of washing line, muffling the dwindling sounds of the battle outside.

"Dunno," Ron replied nervously, his eyes darting around. "Can't see a bloody thing in this mess."

They padded through the cloth fog, listening intently for any sign of the lurking Death Eater.

Things suddenly happened very quickly. Ron stumbled over a discarded rocking horse. As he thudded to the grass, a duvet cover erupted, and the cloaked figure seized Luna's wrist, twisting her wand out of her grasp.

Luna looked briefly surprised, but her face settled quickly.

Then she reached down with her free hand, and a moment later the Death Eater crumpled to the ground with a whimper.

*****

Charging into the tea room, the students found Madam Puddifoot's tea room in chaos.

A number of students, interrupted in the middle of their amorous cooing, had risen to their feet and were forcing the beleaguered Death Eater toward the wall. He cowered, his left hand raised against the flying curses, occasionally casting a shielding spell or flinging a stunner.

Suddenly, the customary background hum rose to a loud, angry buzzing. The hovering cherubs floated in from the back room, their usual vapid smiles replaced with expressions of fury. They had brought their bows with them.

Their arrows, usually pink and fluffy and prone to disintegrate but now switched for sharp, evil-looking shafts of steel, joined the flashing, actinic flurry of spells, forcing the Death Eater back. He edged towards a window, launching stunners with his right hand while wrapping his left hand in the fabric of his cloak.

He turned slightly, preparing to smash the glass.

He drew his hand back.

And then a volley of needle-sharp steel arrows and a dozen assorted spells hit him.

The impact threw him out through the window, shattering the glass and flinging him outside in a cloud of glass and splintering wood.

He landed with a thud, rolled to a stop, and lay still.

"Right," one of the three rescuers said weakly from the door. "Um... Any more of the buggers about?"

*****

Neville peered round the corner to see more hooded figures swarming into the street from behind Zonko's. He smiled broadly, showing his teeth.

"More fodder!" he exclaimed before blazing another volley of spells eastwards.

*      *      *

_This is unexpected. Their numbers are greater than our reconnaissance had suggested. Their training is superior. That fool McCleuch allowed himself to be... hrm... incapacitated in a manner that a schoolboy would have known to guard against — the Master will surely punish him for his lapse._

And as for Severus Snape... he should have informed us of this additional training. Most vexing.

*      *      *

Harry helped Ginny to her feet, watching the two remaining Death Eaters out of the corner of his eye as they headed for the door.

"Whose blood is that all over you?" he asked with concern, seeing the state of her clothes.

"Mostly his," she replied, viciously kicking the dissolving vampire corpse at her feet. She supported herself on Harry's shoulder, eyes flashing with anger, the throbbing pain in her leg slowly fading to a dull ache as the adrenaline kicked in.

"Two left," she said grimly. "And they're _mine_."

She stormed out, closely followed by Harry and a group of DA members. They followed the fleeing Death Eaters across the road and down the lane towards the Shrieking Shack, flinging petrifying hexes as they ran.

One of the Death Eaters went down, hit by a stunner. His companion glanced round, shrugged, and ran on.

"Bloody _STOP_!" Alicia Spinnet screamed, blazing a series of hexes towards the running Death Eater; he ducked, rolled, and came up, wand blazing. A viciously orange curse seared through the air and hit her, throwing her to the ground.

"Take care of her," Ginny ordered, barely slowing her pace but nevertheless limping slightly, "Harry and I'll catch the last one!"

They set off after the Death Eater, following him off the lane and out across a field. But the running was opening up the wound in Ginny's thigh, and the blood oozed out faster as her pulse grew faster.

"My leg's giving in," Ginny panted. Blood dripped off the cuffs of her now-sodden trouser leg, forming a speckled trail behind her. "He'll get away."

"Don't worry," Harry gasped, slowing slightly. "I read about a spell that might do the trick." He levelled his wand at the fleeing figure. "_Expecto Clientes Pedidaemonii_!"

The Death Eater stumbled, falling flat on his face as his boots seemed to stick to the ground. As he clambered laboriously to his feet, they seemed to take on a life of their own, running in circles and almost tap dancing beneath him.

"Harry? What does that spell do?"

The feet had stopped dancing about, and now seemed to be staring intently at each other.

"Um... it binds a small demon to each of his feet, and that stops him. The book wasn't very clear on how, though. Something about opposites."

The feet turned away from each other and clomped briskly apart. The Death Eater screamed as his joints were stretched to their limits.

"Oh no," Ginny gasped, guessing what was about to happen. "No, no... Oh Merlin, this is _horrible_!" She turned away, burying her face in Harry's shoulder. He watched, open-mouthed, as the feet continued pulling apart.

A moment later, the feet were several metres apart, and hopping quickly away from each other, dragging the remains of the Death Eater with them.

Not that Harry had had much of a lunch, but he lost it anyway.

"Oh god, I can't believe I did that..." Choking and coughing, he collapsed to the ground, where Ginny caught him in her arms. "He just... oh god..."

Ginny carefully avoided looking towards where it had happened, but was turning vaguely green anyway with the memory of the squelchy tearing sound ringing in her ears.

"Harry... promise me you'll never use that curse again. _Ever_."

Harry nodded — then looked up as he saw shadows bustle up around him, appearing out of the sleet-laden mist.

"Potter!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, blanching as she saw the mess over Harry's shoulder. "What in the world have you been doing?"

"Death Eaters... I... I didn't want to _kill_ him!"

McGonagall nodded, horrified. She placed a hand on Harry's shoulder as Professors Dumbledore and Snape joined them, taking in the scene. Snape seemed largely unaffected by the carnage, though a curious expression creased his face.

"Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, "did you do that?"

Harry nodded again, holding onto Ginny. He looked pleadingly at Dumbledore, who gave him an understanding nod.

"And you do not wish to remember it?"

"No..." Harry breathed.

"You must remember, of course, _that_ you killed him," Dumbledore said sternly. "we cannot simply forget all unpleasantness. Nevertheless, under the circumstances, I hardly think there is any need to remember the event in any... hrm... detail." He leaned closer. "These are times of war, Harry," he whispered. "Sometimes we are forced to kill, and such decisions are always easier in hindsight. Consider this event, Harry, but let it make you stronger, not weaker."

He stood, and stared closely into Harry and Ginny's eyes. Then he touched his wand to their foreheads.

"_Obliviate_."

*****

Neville led his squad east, bounding from cover to cover, following the Death Eaters as they fled. Several of the Death Eaters dropped along the way, put they picked up their pace as they approached the outskirts of the village.

And then a horde of students emerged from the Three Broomsticks.

With a loud curse, the Death Eaters swerved north, running as fast as their legs could carry them. Scattered hexes pounded the ground around them, and Neville's wand chattered dryly as a flurry of screaming orange blasts caught one of the Death Eaters in the back of the head.

One more of them dropped, his legs instantly limp, as a carefully-aimed stunner from Katie Bell's wand hit him in the small of the back.

The last Death Eater was now panicking, sprinting wide-eyed towards the woods. He had only been a Death Eater for a month, had joined because it was a family tradition, and had not strictly speaking done anything yet to deserve the shock he was about to receive.

Five members of the Order of the Phoenix appeared directly in front of him.

He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

"Oh blast," he breathed.

Nine stunners hit him from both sides at once. He hit the ground, twitching and flailing as his muscles overloaded and spasmed, and felt the welcoming pink fog of unconsciousness envelop him.

*****

All around Hogsmeade, the sharp cracks of Disapparition echoed between the houses as the Death Eaters withdrew, pursued at every turn by students, DA members and locals.

The defenders of Hogsmeade slowly returned into the village, carefully checking anywhere that might harbour a Death Eater. The high street was soon swarming with people, many levitating or carrying bodies.

It was into this hubbub that Dumbledore strode with his entourage. A brief search found Hermione sitting propped up against a wall, her left arm hanging limply at her side, taking reports from people as they returned.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Matters firmly in hand, I see?"

Hermione managed a weak smile and a nod, but was clearly still in a great deal of pain.

"Madam Pomfrey will take care of you in a moment," Dumbledore said quietly, but was cut off by a sharp shake of the head.

"No," Hermione wheezed. "I'm fine; get the others first."

Dumbledore smiled, then nodded.

"Very well. You have been following the battle?" he asked, moving briskly on to more pressing matters. "Do we have any serious casualties?"

"Three dead, all Death Eaters." Hermione's voice was quiet and breathless, punctuated by the occasional hacking cough. "I've had reports so far of seven injured students, but we got at least twenty Death Eaters." Her face twisted into an odd expression, not helped by the wince that flared through her. "If Harry hadn't set up the DA last year..."

Dumbledore nodded, then gently tapped his wand to her head. Her eyes closed and she quietly and without any fuss fell asleep. A moment later, he had levitated her and sent her off to Madam Pomfrey.

"Will she be all right?" asked Harry, appearing out of the crowd behind him.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Yes," Dumbledore nodded, "I think a few days of bed rest will see her fully restored."

Just then, a shower of golden sparks burst in the air to the west. As they twinkled downwards, they seemed to form a glittering, cursive "L".

"Luna." Harry set off at a trot, closely followed by Ginny, the pain in her leg forgotten. Neville and a small group of students fell in at his elbow, drawing their wands again.

*      *      *

_Severus Snape has perpetrated a major blunder. His failure to acquire the Defence Against Dark Arts post is directly to blame for this debacle — he is personally responsible for the failure, such as it is, of this assault. He will pay for his incompetence._

*      *      *

The group, with Harry and Ginny in the lead, jogged west towards where they had seen the sparks. They rounded the corner towards Madam Puddifoot's, before following the voices in behind the house between the village hall and the tea room.

As they approached, they saw three students tearing down and pushing aside laundry to clear a space; in the centre of it stood Ron, looking mildly nauseous. Luna stood nearby, inquisitively examining the cloaked figure lying huddled on the ground at her feet, immersed in a small and very private world of pain.

"What happened?" Harry's eyebrows shot up as he surveyed the scene.

"Luna..." Ron mumbled, wincing slightly. "The bloke caught her and took her wand, so she grabbed him."

Luna pottered about in the background, twisting stockings and looping them over her arm.

"Luna grabbed him and he just curled up like that?" Harry asked sceptically.

Behind them, Luna wound a twisted stocking around the whimpering Death Eater's wrists, tying them firmly.

"Um. Then she... er... _twisted_."

Comprehension dawned.

Luna wandered about unnoticed in the background, gradually turning the Death Eater into a trussed-up turkey.

"All _right_!" Ginny exclaimed, grinning broadly.

"Ouch." Harry winced. "And I thought we were the good guys."

Ginny leaned over and whispered to Harry, "I taught her that..."

*      *      *

_Our troops are routed. The last of our loyal Death Eaters has disapparated and returned to the fold. Resistance was heavier than we had expected; our plans had not anticipated so many students, nor that level of training. The Dark Lord will not be pleased._

So we will find someone else to tell him.

Severus Snape, for instance.

*      *      *

"'Ef, 'ef, 'ef righ' 'ef! 'Ef, 'ef, 'ef righ' 'ef! 'Ef, 'ef, 'ef righ' 'ef!"

Neville's voice boomed out uncharacteristically across the hillside road to Hogwarts as he marched precisely beside the horde of students that he had somehow managed to form up into some semblance of rank and file. A small group sauntered along behind the regiment, watching with amusement.

"How long until that sergeant-major charm wears off, Luna?" Harry asked with a chuckle.

"An hour, perhaps. Or a day. Probably not more than a week. I'm not sure, I just made it up."

"Why don't you just _finite_ it?" Ron interjected.

Luna smiled, with a distinctly mischievous wink. "I rather like it."

"Forget I asked," Ron muttered quickly, with a grimace. "Still," he admitted grudgingly, "it seems effective."

"'Seems effective'?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Luna, it was brilliant. If I start up the DA again, you'll have to teach us that one, OK?"

"All right."

They continued up the hill, Ron escorting a floating, sleeping Hermione and Harry supporting Ginny as she hobbled back up the hill.

"By the way, Ron," Luna asked nonchalantly as they strolled in through the gates, "you and Hermione..."

"Yes."

Luna grinned. "Good."

Ron gave her a sceptical glance.

"Why?"

"Oh, nothing. But Neville owes me a Galleon."

*      *      *

_An utter, abysmal failure. And all Snape's fault._

Actually...

Snape has had several suspicious failures, has he not?

Perhaps he is not as loyal as he claims... The Dark Lord trusts him, but not as much as he has done in the past... and the Master's trust erodes quickly.

Snape will have to prove his loyalty somehow; it will be interesting to see what proof the Dark Lord requires. He will doubtless demand something spectacular.

**Author's Note:**

> Those of a literary or quantum bent may recognise Luna's line about infinite stupidity; yup, it's an Einsteinism.


End file.
